


Not Your Average Pick-Up Line

by lady_needless_litany



Category: To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Online Dating, winter holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 21:56:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17906408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: Lara Jean had never quite understood the appeal of online dating. Eventually, her flatmate, Chris, wheedled her into it—and Lara Jean ended up getting an unusual proposition for the holiday season.





	Not Your Average Pick-Up Line

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Christmas_Prompt_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Christmas_Prompt_2018) collection. 



Online dating. It was basically a given that everyone did it, at some point or another. Privately, Lara Jean thought it was rather lacking in romance, but when she had that conversation with her roommate, Chris told her that she’d been reading too many bodice-rippers.

Unfortunately, Lara Jean’s life was also rather lacking in romance, and had since the very start of college—two and a half years ago. It didn’t bother her. She liked her own company, she enjoyed her studies, and she had several great friends. In fact, her love-life, or lack thereof, was more concerning to her friends than to her. It routinely came up in conversation, which usually led to her cringing and wanting to evaporate.

It was during one such episode that Chris had decided to get her on a dating site. The night had followed a long week and had involved cake, a rom-com, and cider. Lara Jean simply hadn’t had the energy to resist Chris’ insistence.

That had been several days ago. She’d yet to have any luck—a few stilted conversations, a few thinly-veiled solicitations. All in all, not a success.

Realistically, she just found the whole affair rather awkward. She’d never been very good at figured out what she found attractive. That was one of the reasons she’d never gone for dating websites or apps—while she had nothing against them in theory, in practice they felt weird and unnatural to her.

But she was bored, it was a Tuesday evening, and she was procrastinating some reading that had been assigned earlier that day. So she gave it another stab.

She swiped through several profiles, unconvinced and rapidly losing hope. The fourth or fifth, however caught her eye. The way that his hair was a little out of control and flopped over his eyes was endearing, and his smile seemed warm and infectious. She swiped right.

She forged ahead, mostly swiping left, but gambling on the odd one here and there. As she began to grow bored, verging on closing the app, a notification popped up. A message.

It was the first guy, with the hair and smile: Peter Kavinsky.

With some trepidation, given her last few experiences, she opened it.

**Peter:** hi

It was simple, unobtrusive. Lara Jean would admit that she was a little disappointed that it wasn’t more interesting, but she was also hugely relieved. At least it wasn’t anything weird.

She replied in kind and they fell into idle conversation. They learnt that they both studied at the same college, which could be either a blessing or a curse. They were the same age. She noted a key difference in the way that they wrote. Lara Jean was the kind of person that always had flawless grammar, spelling, and punctuation—even when she was messaging people. Peter, on the other hand, had developed an overreliance on his beleaguered autocorrect and was a serial multi-texter to boot. Despite that, she swiftly grew to like him—or, at least, his messages. It was certainly the longest chat she’d ever had on the app.

As their conversation naturally began to dwindle, Peter sent a message that stopped her short.

**Peter:** look, this is pretty forward, but it’s the holiday season and…

He stopped typing for a while, which made Lara Jean surprisingly anxious. She told herself she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t stop staring at their chat.

**LJ:** …

**LJ:** ?

She instantly regretted prompting him—was she being too pushy? _Don’t be such an idiot,_ she scolded herself. _Stop overthinking things. It was fine._

**Peter:** sorry, a friend phoned :(

Lara Jean exhaled. She couldn’t deny that she felt a strange rush of relief.

**Peter:** i was going to say

**Peter:** ok this is a bit weird but

**Peter:** do you want to pretend to be my girlfriend?

Her heart stopped.

_What?_

A moment later, she started rationalising. _Look, this is a dating app. People are_ supposed _to ask each other out. Maybe it’s just an unusual pick-up line._

Except Peter wasn’t done.

**Peter:** it’s just that there’s a whole bunch of christmas events to go to and i kind of told everyone i have a girlfriend, even though i don’t. So now i’m in an awkward situation, which is totally my fault, but pls help me out???

_Okay. Not a pick-up line, then._

Feeling slightly unsettled, she typed out a quick reply.

**LJ:** What do I get out of it?

**Peter:** uhhhhhh

**Peter:** Free food

**Peter:** Free booze, if you're into that

**Peter:** Plus, you’re helping me out, so good karma?

**Peter:** i’ll buy you an xmas present

**Peter:** Did i mention the free food?

Grinning, she fired back a crying-with-laughter emoji. _You know what…what the hell._

**LJ:** Deal.

* * *

Her younger sister, Kitty, was thrilled. They Skyped two or three times a week, including the day after Lara Jean had made her deal with Peter.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” she mumbled. She was already regretting telling Kitty; she was just glad that Chris wasn’t home to overhear their conversation.

“This is great!” Kitty enthused. “You need to take more risks! Get yourself out of your comfort zone!”

“He could be a serial killer, for all I know.”

“He’s not. I looked him up on Instagram and your college’s website, his story checks out. He seems like an okay guy,” Kitty answered.

Lara Jean shook her head. She’d forgotten that her younger sister was a pretty decent social media detective—and was too thoroughly invested in her love life. “Damn, Kitty Covey. You scare me sometimes.”

“Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes. “That was not a compliment!”

“It’s all a matter of perspective,” Kitty sing-songed, mimicking a particularly effervescent homeroom teacher that Lara Jean had once had.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the impression. “Look,” she said. “Just don’t tell Dad or Margot, okay? I don’t want them to worry or think I’ve gone insane.”

Kitty waved her concerns away. “You’re the one that worries too much. You’ve got a boyfriend. Go and enjoy that!”

“A fake boyfriend,” she reminded her.

An eye-roll. “Fake, real, what does it matter? Just stop worrying and get on with it!”

* * *

Given the unusual nature of their agreement, they decided that they need to strategise before they tried to convince anyone that they were dating. Peter had suggested a little diner, one that was often frequented by students. It made sense and adhered to all the advice that came with meeting people that you’d come into contact with on the Internet: it was public, busy, and open.

A concoction of excitement, stress, and concern mean that she arrived ten minutes before they had arranged to meet. She ordered a drink, then spent the remainder of the time fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably. Her stomach squeezed itself. Every passing second made her regret her decision more.

Thankfully, Peter showed up on time.

She instantly recognised him from the pictures. Apparently he recognised her, too, because he walked straight over and plonked himself down on the chair opposite her.

By way of introduction, he stuck out one hand and said, “Hey. You’re Lara Jean, right?”

“Yep.” Lara Jean accepted his handshake. “You’re Peter Kavinsky?”

“No, I’m some random stranger,” he deadpanned. At her flat reception, he raised an eyebrow. “That was a joke,” he clarified.

“I know.” Lara Jean gave him a small smile. “I guess you’ll just have to try harder next time.”

His eyes widened. “Ouch, that hurts!”

“It was supposed to,” she rejoined. She felt the tension begin to ebb away, her shoulders slowly relaxing.

“Okay, now that you’ve murdered my ego,” Peter said, leaning forward, elbows on the table and chin resting on his hands. “Where do we go from here?”

He was looking straight at her, in a way that felt both friendly and unsettlingly piercing. Unintentionally, she glanced away to one side. “We should talk business, right?”

“Probably,” he responded. “But first I’m getting some breakfast.”

He waved to one of the waitstaff and ordered a cup of coffee and a round of cinnamon toast.

While he waited, they began to discuss their agreement. What, exactly, were they dealing with? What was the goal? Where were the boundaries?

By the time Peter’s breakfast arrived, they were on the same page, and Lara Jean had established her rule about kissing. When he offered her a slice of toast, she accepted.

“I don’t want to pry,” she started, not quite sure of herself. “But if this is going to be convincing, we should get to know each other, right?”

“Sure.” Peter took a slurp of his drink. “What do you think we should know about each other?”

“Um…” Hesitating, she cast around for something. “Let’s start with college. What year are you in? What are you studying?”

“Third year. Economics. You?”

“Third year. Literature.”

They went from there, questions gradually becoming more adventurous. It was mostly harmless chit-chat, until she asked about his love-life.

He looked down at the tabletop. “Well, I was kind of dating this girl call Gen, for a while. Except I thought we were dating and she didn’t, so it didn’t last for very long.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit awkward, ’cause she’s a student here and I keep running into her.”

“Wait, she studies here?” Lara Jean asked, suddenly suspicious. “Is she a ‘Jennifer’ or a ‘Genevieve?’”

Peter frowned, confused, but answered anyway. “A ‘Genevieve.’”

“Does she have a cousin called Chris? Blonde, kinda crazy? Studying design?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yep. You know her?”

“We used to be friends. And I share a place with Chris.”

“In that case-”

Guessing where his train of thought was heading, she interrupted. “It’s not a problem. I’ll tell her we met online, which is true. She’s got no reason to be suspicious.”

Peter exhaled. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” she reaffirmed. “But there’s still a couple of questions. Firstly, how long is this for?”

“Uh - until the start of next semester, I guess. But it would be suspicious if we broke up right away, so let’s just see how it goes.”

“Fair enough. Secondly, how far are we taking this?”

He frowned. “In what way?”

“Are we getting our families involved in this?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I - look, if Chris knows, my whole family knows. So…” she trailed off, uncertain of how she wanted to finish that.

“Okay, then,” Peter said, suddenly. “If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it properly. Family, couple photos on Instagram—all of it.”

She nodded. Part of her screamed that this was a terrible idea, that she didn’t do things like this, that she’d regret it. A larger part of her was curious. “Alright.”

* * *

A couple of days later, Lara Jean ended up at a party. No, that wasn’t quite right; ‘ended up’ sounded accidental, when their entire ‘relationship’ had been established for exactly that purpose.

The two of them had worked out a decent backstory, which stuck to the truth as closely as possible: they’d met online, this was the first time she’d met any of his friends. The only real lie was how long they’d been together; they’d agreed to say that they’d started dating around Halloween, but had been keeping it low-key up to that point.

In all honesty, Lara Jean still couldn’t believe that they were doing it. Thinking about it, the whole affair was oddly exhilarating, like something she’d read about in a novel. In practice, it was much less glamorous—she’d never known how to handle herself at parties.

A couple of minutes after they arrived, Peter disappeared to refill their drinks, leaving her in someone’s overcrowded living room. It was Peter’s lacrosse team’s informal holiday get-together, held at a house that a couple of the team members co-rented. It was painfully small, forcing the guests to spill from the living room into the kitchen and the hall, with a few brave souls risking the freezing, postage-stamp-sized back garden.

While she was by herself, she perched awkwardly on the sofa, making stilted chat with a girl that she’d never met before. She seemed nice enough, but neither of them were excellent conversationalists, especially seeing as they didn’t seem to have much in common. Still, they managed, not unpleasantly. By the time that the other girl excused herself, Lara Jean felt that they’d done alright.

She was rapidly replaced. A girl took her place, flouncing down on the sofa, and Lara Jean’s heart instantly plummeted.

_Oh._

Gen.

The ex. Or the sort-of ex, at least. In more ways than one: Peter’s ex-girlfriend, but also Lara Jean’s ex-middle-school friend. Perhaps it was a little ridiculous to hold onto middle-school feuds, but it still stung.

“Hi,” she tried.

“What are you doing here?”

The response was so abrupt, so aggressive, that Lara Jean found herself slightly nonplussed. “Um - I’m here for the party.”

At that point, in a true feat of _deus ex machina,_ Peter reappeared. Nonchalant, he took a seat next to her and handed her a drink. Then, not so nonchalantly, he leant against her and took one of her hands in his. “Hey, Gen.”

“Hey,” Gen replied tightly. “So, are you two together now?”

“Uh,” Peter hesitated—whether out of fear or reluctance, she wasn’t sure. “I guess so.”

In a tone that was intentionally cutting, she replied, “Well, that’s sweet.”

“Sure,” he replied, clearly as lost as Lara Jean felt.

She opened her mouth, like she was about to say something, but she stopped herself. Instead, she stood, threw them one last malicious glare, and walked straight out of the room.

_What on earth?_ The whole interaction had been utterly ridiculous, so much so that Lara Jean was still internally reeling. “That was awkward.”

“Sorry about that,” Peter muttered. “I promise you that my friends are much nicer than that.”

He seemed so genuinely contrite that she couldn’t help but smile. She shoved his shoulder lightly. “So, are you going to introduce me to said friends? Or are we going to sit on this sofa all night?”

“Hey, there’s plenty of interesting things that you can do on a sofa.”

At her unimpressed look, he heaved himself off the sofa and extended a hand. “Well, let’s give it a shot.”

She accepted his hand and stood. Together, they made their way across the room to a corner where several of his teammates were stood, loudly debating something trivial.

“That’s Greg, one of my closest friends,” he told her discreetly, before loudly insert himself into their conversation. “Guys! This is my girlfriend, Lara Jean." 

* * *

The day after the party, Lara Jean awoke far later than usual. Though she hadn’t been drunk, it had been a late night. Still sleepy, she wandered from bedroom to bathroom, then into their communal living space.

Her flatmate was seated at the little table in their kitchenette, simultaneously scrolling through Twitter and spooning cereal into her mouth. It was an art she’d perfected.

“Morning,” Chris commented pointedly. “Wasn’t sure if you’d made it home.”

“Morning,” she replied, deliberately ignoring Chris’ attempt to needle her. She flicked the kettle on. “Coffee?”

“Definitely.” Chris pushes an empty mug across the counter. Lara Jean set about making coffee—which was fairly simple, given that it was instant—and located some fruit for breakfast.

Once she’d finished, she sat across from Chris, grateful that the coffee’s aroma had already begun to dispel her sleepiness.

“So,” Chris said between mouthfuls of cereal, fixing her with her characteristically intense look. “You and Peter.”

Lara Jean looked at her quizzically. When she’d told her that she was dating Peter, Chris had barely batted an eyelid. “What about me and Peter?”

“Are you guys, like, legit?”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Really? It’s just that he doesn’t seem like your type.”

Strangely defensive, Lara Jean’s voice rose as she spoke. “I don’t have a type. Besides, we’re getting on just fine-”

Sensing she had brushed a nerve, Chris put her hands up. “Look, I’m not implying anything. It’s just weird that you’re dating my cousin’s ex.”

“They weren’t properly dating, according to him. That’s why they didn’t work out!” Lara Jean retorted. “Anyway, does it really matter?”

“No,” Chris conceded. “In fact, it probably pisses Gen off that he’s moved on from her, so, frankly, I'm in favour of it.”

Lara Jean deflated. “Yeah, she seemed pretty annoyed.”

“Wait, you actually saw her?” Chris cackled. “That’s amazing.”

Lara Jean waited until Chris had stopped laughing, then offered apologetically: “Sorry for being a bit aggressive just then.”

“No worries. Plus, I guess you answered the question pretty well: you and Peter are definitely legit if that was anything to go by.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems like you’re pretty protective of him.”

Lara Jean raised one hand to cover her mouth. “God! Really? That’s a bit weird and territorial of me.”

“Probably. But it’s not like you’re jealously guarding him and stabbing every person that looks his way, so you’re probably fine.”

Chris’ mind worked in unfathomable ways. Lara Jean had learnt that the best, safest thing to do was just shrug in acknowledgement. “Right.”

As she sat down with her breakfast and a cup of coffee, she lazily reflected on the night. Even though she’d been apprehensive about going, she’d admit that she actually enjoyed it a fair bit. The people had been fun, the music had been alright. Parties would never be her natural habitat, but maybe she could learn to enjoy them.

It had also been a huge success for her and Peter’s scheme. As a result, it was rapidly followed by another lacrosse team outing, her baking club’s informal get-together, and a general end-of-year event on campus. Once, on a whim, they went to a local Christmas fair together, the pretext being that they both wanted to go and none of their friends would go with them. It made for several cliché-but-adorable photos that raised a host of comments online, especially from her family. No one doubted that they were together, that was for certain.

All in all, Lara Jean was pleasantly surprised to find that they enjoyed each other’s company. While she’d hesitate to definitely say they were friends, given the short period of their acquaintance, they made each other laugh, and run-of-the-mill social shenanigans were a less painless when you knew that you had someone who had your back.

Unfortunately, as soon as Lara Jean was prepared to admit that to herself, the semester was over. They went their separate ways, to different states, to rejoin their respective families for the holidays.

Margot, working abroad, couldn’t make it home, but Lara Jean’s disappointment was short-lived: Kitty kept her busy enough that she barely had time to spare her older sister a second thought. The days skittered past, Christmas Eve suddenly appearing from nowhere.

The three of them—Lara Jean, Kitty, and their father—spent the morning in the kitchen, baking and preparing what they could in advance for Christmas dinner. There was a cheerful busyness to it, and the warm scent of cinnamon hung on the air.

Their activities, quite suddenly, were interrupted by a grating, three-note tune. An incoming video call. As Kitty and her Dad shot disgruntled looks at her—the noise really was appalling—she cringed. She washed her hands and walked over to where her phone sat on the kitchen worktop, screen alight. When she saw who the caller was, her heart leapt, unexpectedly and inexplicably elated. Scooping her phone off the counter, she accepted the call and went to perch on the stairs.

“Hey, Peter,” she greeted, as his image appeared on-screen. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. My family’s been asking about you, though.”

She gaped a little. “Really?”

“Yep. I’ve told them a lot about you.”

“All good, right?”

He nodded emphatically. “Of course! There’s nothing bad to say, is there?”

“You absolute sap,” she accused, more than a little endeared. “How are your family, then?”

“Good, good. It’s been busy, lots of family stuff, y’know-”

Halfway through speaking, he broke off, distracted by the appearance of a face above Lara Jean’s shoulder. Kitty.

Taking advantage of his confusion, she chirped, “Are you Peter Kavinsky?”

Lara Jean closed her eyes. “This is my sister, Katherine.”

Her sister immediately corrected her. “Kitty.”

“Hi, Kitty.” Peter squinted at the screen. “Yes, I’m Peter Kavinsky.”

“So, you _do_ exist?”

“Last time I checked,” Peter replied, poking himself dramatically. “Look. Still solid.”

“Are you and LJ dating?” she asked, inquisitive.

“That’s right. Why?”

“Because I can’t imagine her ever having a boyfriend, that’s all.”

“Wow, thanks,” Lara Jean muttered to herself. Louder, she pointedly asked, “Kitty, shouldn’t you be helping Dad?”

Catching her drift, Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Once she was out of earshot, she shook her head. “Sorry about that.”

A soft laugh. “No problem. That’s siblings for you.”

“Still.”

“Okay, I’ve got to go,” Peter ended, voice gentle. “See you soon.”

She bit her lip. “Bye.”

* * *

The next time she saw Peter, face-to-face, was the day before the winter break ended. It was the same café in which they first met face-to-face, which felt fitting. This time, they arrived almost simultaneously, picking a table near the window, where the morning light brought a little warmth into the room.

They placed identical orders, which caused them to exchange an unexpected grin, then fell into a brief conversational lull. Peter spoke first. “Can I be honest, Covey?”

She was somewhat startled by his question—it seemed oddly serious, at odds with his warm tone. “Sure.”

“I’ve missed you,” he confessed. “I know we spoke on the phone and whatever, but I’ve missed seeing you in person.”

Lara Jean genuinely had no idea how to respond.

“It’s a bit weird, I guess,” he continued. “Seeing as we’ve only known each other for a few weeks and all of this was supposed to be fake. But… yeah.”

“Can I be honest, Peter?” she echoed his phrasing.

He seemed startled. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said simply. “And it _is_ a bit weird, but it feels like I’ve known you for a lot longer than a couple of weeks.”

It had been about a month, in actual fact; their little scheme had started in the second week of December and mid-January was rapidly approaching.

“Damn, you can’t say stuff like that.” Peter’s eyes twinkled. “If we’re not careful, people might start thinking we’re serious, y’know.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“No. Could be nice, actually. Although that wasn’t our agreement.”

It wasn’t. And she was okay with that—more than okay with it. Being serious, as Peter had mentioned, was becoming more and more appealing.

Now, she just needed the bravery to make it happen. She was encouraged by the fact that it didn’t seem like he was particularly eager to end their arrangement, which meshed perfectly with Lara Jean’s ideas.

“The agreement was before I-”

“Before what?” Peter raised his eyebrows, presenting a hint of a challenge, albeit an amicable one. “Something you want to tell me?”

“Yes.” Lara Jean inhaled, steeling herself, fingers toying with the edge of her sleeve. “I really like you.”

“Thanks.” Peter grinned. “I really like you too.”

Lara Jean’s heart froze. “Okay,” she said slowly, taking a moment to adjust to that new information. “In that case, would you… would you be interested in continuing this?”

‘This’ was marginally illuminated by a kind of back-and-forth gesture that Lara Jean made, alluding to a connection between them.

“Did you just ask me out, Covey?” Peter asked, eyes playful. “’Cause it sounded like you did.”

Despite knowing that Peter was just teasing, that his feelings were genuine, she grew flustered. “I - well. Yeah. I guess I did.”

“Then yes,” he replied simply.

Lara Jean’s eyes widened, as if she’d thought it wouldn’t work. He chuckled at it, feeling a familiar surge of fondness.

“Does this mean we’re allowed to kiss?”

“Our agreement is kind of out of the window now… so, yes, we are.”

“Good,” Peter half-whispered, already leaning across the table. “Because I’ve wanted to for ages.”

She leant forward to meet him, pressing their lips together in a way that felt both intimately familiar and strangely thrilling. It was a little awkward, given the table between them, but that hardly mattered—the farrago of feelings present in her mind, paired with the physical sensation, were enough to make the discomfort insignificant. She felt him smile against her lips, briefly, before they separated.

Without meaning to, Lara Jean brought her fingertips to her lips, chasing the fading tingles. Opposite her, Peter was struggling to contain a beam.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said a voice, not at all sorry, that had seen far too many college students snogging in that café. “Two plates of pancakes?”


End file.
